


If you could be mine

by littlemissliar



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Double Agents, F/F, Healing, Mental Illness, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, More characters to be added, Past Torture, Secrects, Slow Burn, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Vaginal Sex, Violence, lesbains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 12:31:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13100178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemissliar/pseuds/littlemissliar
Summary: When Widowmaker is taken into Overwatch to work as a peacekeeper to pay for her crimes against humanity. Overwatch puts their best and brightest to break Widowmaker's mind control and recover the victim of war, Amelia Lacroix. But as Widowmakers rises through the ranks as their best, as her relationship with Mercy grows closer and closer, the question of Widowmaker's loyalty is brought to the light.





	If you could be mine

**Author's Note:**

> I googled most of the medical stuff so please don't take it for real. This is all my own personal lore blah blah. I;m a moron so please dont; use this. Also comments and hearts are super appreciated.

Alarms blared loudly, ringing in her ears as Angela ran down the hallway of the Overwatch base. Following at her heels was a standard peacekeeping unit, armed to the teeth. She heard Jack’s voice booming down the corridor ahead of her, growling orders at recruits that hadn’t even seen combat before. As she neared Jack; Angela saw the destruction that had been left. Bullet holes lined the walls, blood splattered onto the floor, and the dead bodies. 

 

Angela felt apart of herself slowly sink away, the personal side. The only part of her that was left was logical and rational doctor that wanted to save lives. Angela looked down at the bodies, analyzing the wounds. One clean shot for every single body. And the smell. The air reeked of some kind of chemical.

Angela coughed, “Put on your gas masks, it may be poison of some kind.” 

 

She slid on her gas mask, walking by to Jack’s side. Jack nodded to Angela, “Nine dead, no survivors. Footage shows the attacker was alone but we have sealed all entrances and exits until the attacker is integrated. It seems like the work of Widow.”

 

Talon, had been thriving since the fall of Overwatch. Maybe Talon was trying to destroy the new Overwatch before it had even begun. They were under fire by the United Nations, and they were under watch 24/7 by numerous world powers that had given Overwatch a show of faith with manpower and resources. And Overwatch had been infiltrated by one of the highest profile Talon agents; that was wanted by forty six countries for assassination of leaders, terrorism plots, and several accounts of guerrilla warfare. Widow was even a suspect for the attack on Numbani and the attack on Volsakiya.

 

It was a disaster.

 

“Where is she?” Angela asked, not making eye contact with Jack as they both looked down on the floor. Jack’s hands folded behind his back in a military like fashion, and with Angela’s own gripped tightly onto her staff. 

 

“She’s barricaded herself in the medical wing. We believe she has an injury, her right leg, most likely a bullet wound. We’ve wiped all the databases in the medical wing, the power has been cut off and the air vents have been closed. If she was planning on stealing medical research then it has failed,” Jack informed her, staring down at his datapad. The glow of the tablet painted his masked face in a faint blue light. Angela could see his eyes were bloodshot. 

 

“How many hours has she been in there?”

“Around five. The bay has been under strict guard of our highest personal, and Tracer has tried to speak to her but it failed.” 

 

“What happened?” Angela asked, looking up at Jack.

“I was under the impression the two had a rivalry of some sorts,” Angela quickly added, having heard reports that they had even spoken after the assassination of Mondatta. Jack shook his head, then a soft beeping noise rang through the halls, white mist falling from the air vents. The air was being filtered. 

 

“Widowmaker nearly killed her.”

 

Angela’s eyes went wide before she regained her composure, “Jack, I should make contact with her. She’s injured and most likely frightened. This standstill needs to come to an end. Imagine what will happen if the press gets a hold of this and that we haven’t done anything.  It’ll be scandal that Overwatch won’t be able to handle. It’s not the glory days anymore. This could kill us,” Angela meet his eyes, back straight and her voice firm. 

 

Jack looked away, sighing, soaking in the situation as dead bodies were being moved away as the alarms feel silent. People waited on order, a statement had to be made, and the infiltration had to be crushed. They couldn't seem weak. Not when they were so new. 

 

He let out a deep sigh, “Two minutes. You’ll have a silent panic button and if you press it we’ll storm the room. I don’t want this to end with lethal force but I will do what is necessary to keep you and Overwatch safe. I trust you will understand that this may have to happen if Widow chooses not to cooperate and puts you at risk,” Jack said, moving his eyes away from Angela’s, turning his back to her. 

 

He looked over his shoulder back to her. His eyes no longer the bright ones that Angela remembered from years ago but dull and grey “Understood?” 

 

Angela’s eye narrowed, “I am not a soldier to be ordered around. I am a doctor and a patient needs my help. I will not take the panic button, Jack.” 

 

She walked to the medical bay, Jack and three of the highest ranking officers of command behind her. Angela had opted out her Caduceus for a military grade combat first aid kit, ones that Angela herself had developed. They walked quickly to the medical area,  following the trail of destruction had Widow had left. Jack and the other three officer were armed, the flashlights on their guns the only source of light they had.   

 

She clutched at her kit tightly, her knuckles white as they neared the medical area. Mercy’s trained eyes watched as the bloodtrail that Widow had left grow larger, like she was staggering. She sighed deeply, and started to count down from ten. 

 

_ Ten _

 

Widowmaker was dangerous. She was a dangerous woman that killed without remorse and felt no emotion. She had said it herself. But that didn’t matter right now. Mercy was a doctor and she had a job to do. 

 

_ Nine _

 

Then suddenly, Angela felt like a child again.

 

She was in a bunker, in Switzerland, and the bombings had lasted five nights in a row now. Her hands pressed against delicate ears, knees up to her chest as she softly sniffled. Her parents were between her, Mother fading in and out of sleep, woken up by the bombs every time. Father was bouncing his leg, watching the door with one hand placed over the shotgun, his other arm around Mother’s shoulders. The bunker reeked, and it was cramped. A loud banging came from the door, and they all heard someone screaming to let them in. 

 

Her father stood up, cocking the shotgun. Angela scrambled to the back of the safe house and hide amongst the cans of food. Just like they had told her to. Her mother stood up, behind Father, after she had hid  any signs of a child in the bunker. Father slowly approached the door of the bunker and- 

 

_ Seven- _

 

“Angela, are you ready?” Jack asked her, startling her as he did so.  She realized that she had stopped moving and was standing perfectly still outside the door. 

 

“Yes, I am,” the doctor nodded, her grip tightening on the handle of the first aid kit. 

 

“You don’t have to go in there. Widowmaker is dangerous. We can send someone else in.  _ I  _ will go in if you feel like you’ll be at too much risk,” Jack quietly said to her, his brows creased in worry. 

 

“I’ll be fine, Jack.” 

 

She stood at the door way, before taking in one final breath. She gently pressed her finger against the cold button of the voice intercom. “Widowmaker, I am Angela Zeigler and I am a doctor to treat your wounds. I’m coming in alone, and I am not armed,” Mercy spoke, her voice clinical. Like reading off a chart. 

 

After pressing the button of the door, it slowly slid open. Operating on what little power that had been allowed into the medical bay now to operate the emergency lights and doors. She glanced around the room, scanning the room for her patient. The few remaining lights flickered on and off in the room. 

 

It was trashed.

 

Like a wild animal had ripped apart the room. Desks had been flipped over, most of them smashed with what looked like the butt of the rifle. The computers had been thrown across the room and smashed, the shattered glass and part of the computers scattered across the floor. She saw several bullet holes along the walls and in the ceiling, empty shells scattered along with the broken pieces of furniture. 

The door closed behind Mercy’s back, which sent the hairs on her back up. 

 

The room was silent for a couple of seconds, but it felt like time had slowed down as Angela waited for a something to happen.

 

A few more seconds passed before a voice all but growled out, “Do not move.”

 

Angela did not move, her heart thumping in her chest. She saw from the corner of her eye, a figure moved from the corner. They held their rifle in hand, loaded and pointed at her head. She moved closer to Angela, scanning her frame with analytical expression over her face. 

 

“Show me what is in that case.” 

 

Angela quickly set down the case onto the ground and opened it. Widowmaker scanned over the case, using her rifle to shuffle through the bandages before she leaned away from it. 

 

Widow saw that the doctor was trying to control her pulse, trying to keep herself calm while she tried to make out what she looked like in the low lighting. 

 

Widow, herself, had no need for light to begin with. Her eyes had been replaced cybernetic enhancements to allow her to see in pitch darkness. She saw the doctor's lean form, no sign of a weapon on her person and the bag had checked out. Widow moved closer to the doctor, lowering her rifle as she started to pat down the other woman. 

 

Her hands grazed against the other’s flesh, cupping the flesh in her grasp to feel any sign of a hidden blade. She started on her legs, one at a time, cupping the leg braces, before she moved onto soft thighs. Widow stopped for a moment, simply feeling the sensation of the others body. She no longer felt the cold, for the sake of missions, but she could feel warmth.Widow felt the woman’s pulse through her clothes, while her hands were on her thighs. Just a few centimeters away from a major artiety. 

 

Her hands travelled up, grazing along her waist, and over her breasts. Then along her arms. Her cold hands touched Mercy’s wrists, simply holding them for a few seconds. 

 

Feeling the way her blood pumped through her being. 

 

_ BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM _

 

She was finally satisfied with her search. Her leg should be throbbing in pain, blood dripping down her leg. But it was thanks to Talon that they had dulled down her sense of pain. All she did know was that she had been shot and that it need to be close or else it would hinder her performance, or risk her death. And she didn’t want that to happen. 

 

“You said you are here to treat me, no?” Widowmaker asked, pulling away to look back at the woman’s whole form. She pointed her rifle at her head, just for safe measures. 

 

Angela nodded, “Yes, that is correct.”

 

Widow walked over to the table that she had thrown, pulling it back up right with an easy show of strength. She heard the doctor move, following after Widow. She propped her injured leg onto the table with a thunk. The doctor placed her kit on the table, clicking it open quickly, reaching for something within it, faster than she normally had. 

 

Widow felt her blood pick up speed and feel the rush of something about to happen, no one moves that quickly when just reaching into a bag. Had she missed something within the bag. _ Had her injury made her miss something _ , she quickly gusses to herself No-she never missed, it was trickery. Her hand squeezed into a fist, gritting her teeth. 

  
  


_ Kill kill kill illkiLLKILLKILLKILL _

  
  


Widow lurched across the table, twisting the doctor’s wrist, forcing her to let go of what she was holding. Her grip like iron on the fragile wrist of her target, her breath picking up form it's unnatural pace to like she was running at full speed. Her fingers dug into the doctors wrist with all her strength. Widow readjusted herself so she could break Mercy’s  wrist, making the pain so unbearable for the doctor she let go of what she was holding.  

 

The doctor was shaking in fear, holding still as she looked up at the pair of golden, glowing eyes. Mercy had been holding painkillers, covered in sweat, and crushed by Angela clutching at them.  Widowmaker’s grip never waivered for a second, as she looked over at them. 

 

Then Widowmaker’s grip, slowly lessened. Until she let go of Angela’s wrist, and the assassin picked up the box and tossing it to the side.“No painkillers. Nothing will dull me,” Widow growled at Angela. 

 

Her breath so cold to her warm flesh. Mercy felt all the hairs on her neck rise. 

“Of course,” Angela nodded. “Will you like me to talk about what I am doing?”  

 

Widow paused, scanning over Angela once again. Before nodding. She placed her injured leg  back  upon the table like it was merely a sack. The doctor started work.  

 

Mercy had worked in almost darkness a couple of times and all of them had been unpleasant experiences. But not one ever refused painkillers, or anything, for the matter that would help dull the pain away. Patients, humans, hated pain with a passion.  Mercy glanced back up at Widow, seeing that the other was still watching her. And the gun was still pointed at her head. 

  
  


“I need to cut away at your suit’s leg. It would hinder surgery with it in the way,” she spoke. Widowmaker nodded. 

 

Angela reached into the kit, taking out a pair of scissors slowly, allowing Widowmaker to see them. As Widow saw the scissors, her form tightened up, muscles clenching all around her body as she grit her teeth, still watching the doctor. She gently snipped away, cutting away at the fabric of Widow’s suit.

 

 Mercy saw the full signs of what had happened to the woman once known as Amelia. The unnatural blue skin she was so often associated with was not makeup but her actual skin, most likely from having her pulse slowed down so much. From the knee down it was all cybernetic enhancement to handle jumps.

 

Mercy knew not to look for too long, it was nothing she was not already used to. Widowmaker did not want her pity, she wanted her aid. 

 

“I need to cut off circulation on your leg so you do not bleed out while I remove the bullet and close the wound” 

 

Mercy took out a tourniquet which would cut off blood flow. She threaded it through Widowmaker’s leg, going up until she reached the taller ones mid thigh, and she tightened it as hard as it would go with all her strength. A slight discomfort of Widowmaker’s part she would have to bear or else she would run the risk of dying or fainting from blood loss. 

 

“I need to clean the wound. I’m going to use alcohol wipes. It may sting,”

 

Cleaning the wound of all the blood and preventing infection, she gently dabbed the alcohol wipes at the wounds, placing them into a bloody pile. Mercy leaned into the wound, trying to get a scope at the full damage that had been down by the bullet. Her major artery was not damaged, but the fact that Widow moved so much after being shot did nothing but damage the wound further.  It appeared to be still inside her leg, Mercy gulped, letting out a small sigh.

 

“The bullet is still in your leg. I need to remove it.”

 

It would need to be pulled out right away. She reached into her kit, taking out her tweezers. She snipped away at more of Widowmaker’s flesh, only the smallest micrometer. The bullet was lodged deep into her thigh muscle, Mercy put her tweezers into Widowmakers leg, feeling for the bullet. Her eyes burning with focus as she watched the wound. Then she felt the bullet, getting a good hold of it. And pulling it out.

She placed the pullet on the bloody pile of alcohol wipes, leaning away from Widowmaker for a few seconds, taking in a deep breath. But they were not out of the woods just yet. 

 

She saw how Widowmaker never moved, even when the bullet was being pulled out of her thigh muscles. Most people, even people so accustomed to pain, maid some sort of move or grunt to find an escape from the pain. And they were all on painkillers. 

 

“I’m going to being doing the stitches next, and then apply antiseptic.” 

 

Mercy place her dirty tools away, changing her bloodied gloves. She put on new ones, then took out more of her tools for stitching.  The needle went through Widowmaker’s skin like a hot knife through butter. The only sign Mercy was even working on a living patient was that Widowmaker bleed like a living body would.  Then the antiseptic was applied. 

 

Mercy glanced up at Widowmaker. 

 

And their eyes meet. 

 

Widowmaker was no long staring down at her through her scope but was now merely watching her. Like Mercy was merely teaching her something, like teaching her how to knit. Widow’s posture was still straight, the rifle slung over her shoulder, finger on the trigger.  

 

Angela stared into those golden eyes, watching her with burning intensity. She felt naked underneath those eyes, like Widow could see her every thought. Those golden eyes she laid bare to as they held their gaze with one another. Mercy never did this. So why was she doing it now, of all times?

 

But something in her mind she couldn’t look away. 

 

There is something so distinctly powerful about the eyes of someone. For a brief moment, they see your entire being, naked and bare only to you. And in return you too will show that vulnerability. 

 

Widowmaker, for the first time, felt a small flicker in her brain. Like a sense of deja vu of some sorts. Like she had see the same sky blue eyes before. They sky. They seemed so calm, but not the cold calculating calm that she had grown so used to. But the way the a city feels after a hurricane. 

 

Had the sky always been so beautiful?


End file.
